The waiting game

Pardon me for doing what is the blog equivalent of twiddling my thumbs. While I am waiting for the dreaded two week wait to end, I'm finding myself lacking anything of interest to say.

I have been thinking about what my options are at the end of this, whether the result is positive or negative. If it is positive, will I continue to blog? I think I have decided that I would, because I cannot fathom not being in constant contact with all of you wonderful people. Infertility has been such a large part of my life in the past three years, and now that has enveloped the blogging community to the point that I would feel as if I'm losing friends, not random people scattered over the globe that happen to read what I write. Granted, I could just hang around and comment, but it wouldn't afford me the same level of interaction that I possess now.

Months ago, upon starting IUI 2, I had the stupidly naive thought that I could get pregnant on that cycle. My blog had just started and I thought how ridiculous it would be to start this thing and magically end up pregnant right after I committed fingers to keyboard. I felt like if that happened, that I wanted to spend months giving my back story, proving to people that I had struggled before the pregnancy came about.

I still feel I would need that validation if I got pregnant during this cycle. I know a lot of bloggers who are not yet pregnant cease reading the blogs of the newly pregnant. Though I understand the raw emotion behind such a decision, I don't like thinking about all the people I would lose if I were one of the new pregnants. There are times that perhaps I don't read a pregnant blogger as faithfully, but some of them are as much of my blogging life as writing my own blog is.

I completely support whatever decisions individuals make on this subject. Knowing the immense pain that we all go through on a near-daily basis leads me to be acutely aware that people need to do what is best for them. I guess the only resolution is for everyone to get pregnant, so we'll have to work on that. All of us will have to just relax, unclench our genitals and hold our fertility icons tightly.

I'm not rambling about any of this because I think I am, or will be pregnant. Pregnancy is alien to me, to the point that it seems like something that doesn't even happen to my species, let alone myself. I expect to be greeted with a streak of violent red in my underwear about a week and two days from now, and I won't be surprised when that occurs. However, I thought the best time to write a post like this was without my mind being clouded with the knowledge of being pregnant.

The moral of this story is that if the IVF worked and Bertrand or his cohort implanted, please don't all leave at once. Don't read my blog perhaps, but at least email me. Otherwise, I'll be like the drunken ex-girlfriend throwing myself in front of you shouting, "Why don't you love me?", with tears running down my mascara-stained face. I'll totally do it.